


Ill Bite

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-04-15
Updated: 2001-04-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:38:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: A "Tunguska" vignette: Mulder's thoughts during the warehouse scene.





	Ill Bite

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

I'll Bite by Katherine F.

Author: Katherine F.   
Title: "I'll Bite"  
Rating: R  
Pairing: M/K  
Disclaimer: They are not mine. I am theirs.   
Archive: umm...it's just a snippet...oh, go on then. ArchiveX, okay. All others drop me a line and I'll probably say yes.  
Spoilers: "Tunguska"  
Summary: A "Tunguska" vignette: Mulder's thoughts during the warehouse scene.  
Author's notes: In answer to the "biting" challenge. This is unlikely to be the only one.  
Bitesize chocolate ratboys to anyone who can spot the stolen line. (Hint: it's a paraphrase of a line from a torch short. All Hail torch!)

* * *

"I'll Bite"  
by Katherine F.

"Mulder..."

I love the way he says my name. 

Soft. Low. Lazy. As if he liked the way it tasted. He used to use that tone years ago (two and a half years ago) when he wanted something from me. He knew the effect it had on me. He knew that I knew that he knew. It was a little game we'd play; see how well you know me, how easy it is for you to push my buttons...dangerous. Far too dangerous. 

I have always loved danger.

I let him under my skin too quickly. He learned how to play me, and I learned how to let him. Oh, sure, I found some buttons too, some notes easily produced; I know the way he likes to be touched and the noises he makes when he comes -- or, sweeter still, when he's nearly there, so close to the edge he can taste it, but I won't let him go over until *I'm* good and ready. 

Sweet Jesus, I can hear him now; not begging, not quite, but wanting to, only some perverse notion of dignity preventing him. 

Or was that a lie, along with all the rest of it?

There are some things you can't fake, though. I'm sure of that. Maybe those little nothings I liked to think significant were calculated touches; the morning coffee, the concerned looks, the way he always asked if he could stay the night (and I always said yes, my skin cold and itchy where it wasn't touching his, how could I refuse it? To give what I most wanted to give?). But oh, those sounds he made when he just couldn't help it...I can't believe they were put on, too.

But maybe I'm fooling myself. Maybe that was just part of the bait.

I turn, unwilling, unable to stop myself. I want to walk away and never see him again. I want to send him to jail with the rest of the scum and read about his "suicide" in the Post. And yeah, I know that means that my hand's one of the ones on the trigger. Do you think that bothers me? I've never had a decent chance before. Maybe this time I really will kill him. 

I know that look on his face. The bait he's offered me so far has been pathetic, and he knows it. But he has another card up his sleeve. 

I don't want him to reel me in. Not again, please God, not again. But my stomach twists suddenly in self-disgust and I realise that whatever he offers me, I'll have no choice but to take it. He knows me too well. 

Triumph glitters in his eyes. He knows that I know that he knows.

"This is just one bomb I'm sitting on. You didn't ask me how many more I know about..."

And that's not what this is about, and he knows, and I know, even if I don't know what he's hiding behind the bombs and the militiamen.

But I'll bite.

I always do.

[end]

  
Archived: 21:50 03/21/01 


End file.
